Man in the Middle
by monkey-in-hell
Summary: Sam/Gene/Alex in 2008. One shot / drabble type thing...


A/N Short one shot, written to fill in some time before series two.

Man In The Middle

"And he's probably still there now..."

Sam lingered hesitantly over the ending to the anecdote, his eyes flickering to the other man's face in search of some kind of reaction but there was nothing. No laughter, no amusing comments. He'd give anything to hear even a mouthful of abuse but his friend, the man who was really more like a brother to him, only lay there passively. In the quiet of the room, in a silence that was only punctuated by the gentle rhythmic pulse of the machinery around them - the very sounds that his own faltering words had managed to disguise for the last few hours – he wondered if he'd ever hear that voice again. His throat restricted painfully at the thought and the lump that was lodged there pushed defiantly against its new restraints. He swallowed hard, hoping to dislodge the uncomfortable feeling but he couldn't get rid of it.

In quiet acceptance he ran both hands over his face in an attempt to rub away some of the tiredness, to ease the headache that had been niggling him for most of the morning, and to try and erase some of the guilt. Rationally he knew that what had happened wasn't his fault; it was an accident and one that was the accumulation of a variety of factors and occurrences that he had little control over. It just pained him to think that he was one of the links in the chain of events that had led them both here - and a fairly big link too. The word 'if' had been haunting him, circling menacingly around his head waiting for the perfect moment to strike out at him and every time it did it hurt like hell: 'if' they hadn't gone to that club, 'if' he hadn't let Gene go off on his own; 'if' Gene didn't make it... And that was the very worst of them, the thought of losing his friend for good.

The dynamics of their friendship had changed during the last year or so; his promotion, and subsequent move to another division, had seen their working relationship come to an end but they still lived in the same city so organising regular nights out hadn't been a problem. When Gene had put physical distance between them by subsequently transferring to the Met it had become more difficult but modern technology had helped to maintain an old friendship. It wasn't quite the same though and at times he had found himself missing his closest friend. When he'd started to tell Gene as much the other man had cut him off, telling him not to be so soft.

Sam smiled vaguely at the memory; if anyone was soft it was Gene for following his heart and then her down south – not that he had ever voiced that opinion. Gene would deny it even though they both knew it was true. But he hoped that Gene had understood what he'd been trying to say that day because he might not get another chance. His weak smile faded at the thought of really losing Gene, at being parted by something more substantial and definitive than mere distance.

Raised voices from outside cut through the thick silence and his dark regrets. Sam quickly gathered his thoughts, glancing back to the patient and forcing out a smile as if the other man could see. "Sounds like she's here, Gene," he said, his words carrying some of the smile that was on his lips and watching the other man's face closely as he spoke but there was still no response.

"I've got to go," he said quietly as he stood up reluctantly, his lower half protesting mildly at the movement after such a lengthy period of inertia. A slow step backwards allowed him one last glance before he turned away, leaving his friend alone.

Edging outside of the hospital room he found her in the corridor outside, waylaid by a nurse. He didn't interrupt them, momentarily grateful that he wouldn't have to be the one to tell her the bad news. He hovered guiltily by the door quietly watching the two women, weighed down by the thought that Gene would be bollocking him right then for not looking after her.

In truth he barely knew the woman, they'd only met a couple of times. When she'd first come to Manchester he'd already moved to Hyde on promotion, in the process missing out on a particularly nasty case that had had links to an ongoing Met investigation. Gene had bent his ear about her though, over a beer or six, referring to her as some 'posh mouthy tart' who was interfering with his investigation and who had even had the nerve to try and tell him what to do. Gene had been indignant at the time and Sam had found himself consoling his increasingly inebriated ex boss whilst restraining from smiling. He was accustomed to Gene's quirks and ways after working with him for so long so but he knew how difficult it had been in the beginning too, when he'd spent many uneasy months wondering how his DCI had ever made that rank, so he could appreciate DI Drake's situation. He'd tactfully reminded his old Guv about the strengths of co-operation and was quite surprised when several months later, the case firmly closed, it had appeared that Gene had taken his words to heart - literally.

It was the nurse that gave Sam's position away, her head pointing in his direction after a brief lull in the conversation. Alex's gaze followed the other woman's and a flash of recognition and relief flooded across her face. He could only manage a weak smile in response.

"Sam," Alex said urgently, as the nurse fell away into the background. "What happened?" she asked, walking towards Sam.

He inwardly winced at the hurt in her voice and at the thought of having to tell her the details; it wasn't going to make it any easier for her. "He left the club by himself," he began slowly. "Said he was going out for a smoke," Sam continued quietly, the banality of the preceding moments making what happened next harder to bear. "He was drunk, we all were, but... the car just came out of nowhere," he concluded apologetically. There was no blame in the woman's eyes at his explanation, only pain, yet Sam felt that streak of guilt course through him again. It was his 'stag do' after all and he couldn't have one without his best man. He'd invited him up here. If Gene had stayed in London this weekend then everything would be all right.

Her breath caught in her throat at Sam's broken narration. When she'd woken this morning there'd been two voice mail messages on her mobile: the later message had been left by Sam and woefully scant on details but the urgency in his voice had said enough; the first message, left a half an hour before, had been Gene drunkenly professing his love for her. Making hasty arrangements for her daughter's care she'd jumped straight into her car and driven up north as fast as she could with Gene's message ringing in her ears. A message that he must have left for her just before he...

"Alex?" Sam moved towards her, one arm gently reaching out towards her in comfort. "He's going to be okay," he promised even though he had no right to. The surgeon had been fairly blunt in his prognosis but Sam was hoping that he was only erring on the side of caution - something that he knew he really should be doing right then. But Gene was stubborn and determined in many, many ways. "He would never leave you and Molly," he soothed, his hand rubbing against the top of her arm.

Alex nodded but she was only half listening, her eyes wandering from Sam and through the doorway. She wanted to run to Gene but she was also afraid to as well. Afraid of what the nurse had told her, afraid of what she'd find.

"Go and talk to him, Alex. He needs to know that you're here." Sam let his arm drop from hers, edging out of the way. He'd been talking to Gene all morning; about the good old days, about the wedding next month, about anything just as long as Gene knew that he was there. If she took over from him and if Gene could hear them, could make a connection to them, then maybe he would keep on fighting. Might just even wake up.

"I know," she whispered, meeting Sam's concerned gaze. She knew all about the importance of external and familiar stimuli in these situations. She also knew that it didn't always work, that it wasn't proven to always work. That sometimes people didn't pull through. "Do you really think he'll hear me?"

"Yes," he answered quickly. If she was looking for reassurance he was more than willing to give her it. "Right now he's alone, Alex," he said softly, moving further away from the doorway. "He needs you."

She nodded once before breaking her gaze with Sam and walking into the small room, her hopes slowly fading at the sight she found in there. She'd tried to prepare herself for all possibilities during the long drive up but at the same time she'd tried not to think the worst either. Had tried not to think of him like this. She managed to make it to the side of his bed, to the chair that was placed there, sinking into it before her legs gave way. Her hand sought out his, her gaze never leaving his face as she did so.

"It's me, Gene. It's Bols," she smiled at him, using the nickname he'd bestowed upon her very early on in their relationship. There was no immediate response though and her heart clenched viciously in her chest, the tears she'd struggled to hold in finally breaking free, trailing a silent path down both of her cheeks. She couldn't lose him.

She'd fallen for him quite unexpectedly; divorced, the fallout of which still littered her life, she'd sworn off men completely but an unwanted assignment 'up north' had forced her path to cross with his. It had seemed so unlikely at the start too as they'd also crossed swords many times over. During the four days she'd spent with him and his team she'd found him loud and brash, resentful of her presence and territorial over the case, only ever begrudgingly accepting her input. She'd been glad to leave and get back home to Molly. But later, as the case she working on continued to throw up unexpected links to Manchester, and she'd become reliant upon e-mails and telephone calls to liaise between the two investigations, she'd realised that he was also intelligent, determined, loyal and a good copper in his own way. He could also be quite charming when he wanted to be too and when he had come down to question their suspect, and they had met once again in the flesh, she had been more appreciative of his tall stature and handsome face. More appreciative of those gorgeous eyes and the way he smiled at her - two traits that weren't visible to her right then. Two traits that she yearned to see.

From the corner of one eye she saw Sam finally move away, relinquishing his guard at the doorway. She found some small comfort in the fact that Sam had been with Gene since the accident, that he hadn't been alone. But she was here now – and whatever happened she wasn't going to leave his side either.


End file.
